


World's Most Wanted

by Cat (ActualBuckyBarnes)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: ? - Freeform, Action/Adventure, Angst, Chaptered, Everyone is BAMF, F/M, Fluff, I need a life, M/M, Oh Look A Genre I Can't Stay Away From, Slow Burn, Spies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 18:26:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8112727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActualBuckyBarnes/pseuds/Cat
Summary: World's Most Wanted: a title held dearly for some, and for others, merely a burden they must carry.Dan and Phil are two of those people. Framed from a young age, the two are synonymous with Bonnie and Clyde.Tyler, Troye, and Connor are three more. Called the 2/3 Americans, they were made famous for assassinations and grand theft.Then there's the Internet Kings: three more of the World's Most Wanted. The only thing known about the hackers are their usernames.The Color Bandits are two others. Vandals and thieves, the world has never seen a more perfect team.But none of these groups are the bad guys here. No, the bad guy here is the one who makes the mistake of trying to control the most anti-authoritarian people on the planet. A family noted for their control over the governments of the world- and yet, nobody has ever tried to take them out.Will these groups of thieves, spies, and hackers be able to work together to challenge the most powerful family in Europe?





	1. One Step, You're Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan squared off against Troye. The younger of the two was much smaller, but Dan knew better than to underestimate the Australian- especially if his team were around anywhere.
> 
> "Mate, you'd better hand over that gem, I'd hate for things to get," Troye paused to flick out a switchblade, "Ugly."
> 
> "I'd hate to have to beat up a kid," Dan scoffed, keeping his cool, "What are you, anyway, like twelve?
> 
> "Boys, you should know by now that bickering gets you nowhere," A smooth, female voice that sounded like honey made both men recoil in fear.
> 
> Like it or not, Dan and Troye were very much on the same team now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright to get this show on the road there's trigger warnings for kidnappings, people dying (not major characters), a lot of crying, and robbing a bank. that's about it for this chapter.

The question I can hear you screaming at your screen right now is, "How the fuck is Phil Lester, actual Angel Bean™, on the list of the world's most despicable people?"

Well, the answer to that question goes back to 2009.

See, everything you and I know to be true happened. Phil was a semi-successful YouTuber, Dan was a rabid fangirl, they were Skyping like crazy, then Dan decided to visit.

Now, what you don't understand is that they were both incredibly intelligent. So intelligent, in fact, that it scared some people. Specifically, the Sugg family.

Here's where the sarcastic monologueing stops and I hand it over to the third-person writing to tell you the saddest story I can.

Dan ran into Phil's arms, and they wrapped themselves up in each other's body heat. Phil left a stream of _"You're real, oh God you're real,"_ in Dan's ear, and Dan laughed in response.

"We gonna go to your place or what?" Dan quirked an eyebrow at Phil.

"Well, when you say it like that," Phil wiggled his eyebrows at Dan, and Dan frowned at Phil before bursting into giggles. They were both high on the fact that the other was an actual thing that they could touch and hold and they didn't see the smoke until they were right in front of the house.

Suddenly, what little color that inhabited Phil's face vanished. Dan gaped at the smoking remnants of Phil's house, hearing murmurs of 'arson' and 'no sign of the culprit' and 'haven't found the bodies yet' from the police cars behind them. 

Phil wasn't usually an expressive person. He was the kind of person who bottled something up until it was either perfect, or it exploded from his chest. But he never cried. Not in front of Dan, at least.

Phil cried that day.

Phil had buried his face into the crook of Dan's neck and sobbed like his world had ended- which, really, it kind of had. Dan ran his hand through Phil's hair, tears leaking from his eyes as well.

There was the squeak of tires next to them.

"You need a place to stay?" A curly-haired man with bright green eyes asked, frowning deeply.

"Sorry, it's just, we don't know you," Dan said as Phil stopped sobbing and blinked, almost blankly, at the man standing in front of him.

"You'll get in the car if you know what's good for you," He said, voice soft, brushing back his jacket to reveal a handgun in the waistband of his skinny jeans.

Dan gulped and looked around for the police- who were gone. Dan was shaking as he led Phil, who didn't seem like he was quite there with them, into the car, and pressed a kiss to the top of Phil's head, still trying to comfort the older man.

Screw the whole 'no homo' rule.

"I'm Connor," The man sighed, "I'm so sorry I had to do that. So, so sorry."

"Why?" Dan asked, voice quaking.

"I- I don't know. I work for this agency," Connor said, resolve breaking, "Not by choice, they still have my sister as blackmail. It seems you're their new recruits."

The drive was painfully silent. Connor turned on a radio station and left it at a low volume, and Dan still held Phil in his embrace- Phil had fallen asleep.

"You two are cute together," Connor broke the silence, "Just... don't out yourself while we're there. They take things like that pretty horribly." Connor winced at the memories, remembering the scars that criss-crossed Tyler's back and sides.

"We're not together," Dan answered smoothly, "His family just died. All at once. You don't think I'm going to comfort him?"

"I'm sorry for assuming," Connor said softly. Connor spoke as if he were too kind of a soul for this job- Dan could hear it in his voice. He wondered why the agency had chosen him.

"So what is this mysterious agency? Who do they choose? Why?" Dan asked, still stroking his fingers through Phil's hair.

"Even I don't know the name," Connor said, "But they pick people who are threats. You and Phil are intelligence- wild guess- and I'm on for cunning and creativity. You don't wanna play a game of chess against me." Connor let out a sly grin that Dan could see in the mirror.

"Probably," Dan said, frowning as he thought that someone could see the man sleeping on his chest as a threat. The one who was so proud of his Bulbasaur plushie, who was content to watch Dan play Guitar Hero while he did his homework for hours on end, the one who texted Dan _I miss you_ in the middle of the day, when Dan was in class.

"I know, it's both frightening and flattering," Connor said, chuckling. The car returned to its previous state of awkward silence, and sometime along the ride, Dan fell asleep too, fingers threading through Phil's long, black hair.

.o0o.

They woke up in an interrogation room. They were seated at cold metal chairs, stripped of most of their clothing, and each handcuffed to the table.

"Mr. Howell, Mr. Lester," A smooth, female voice said, holding a razor blade between her fingers. She seemed completely at-ease, and it was terrifying.

The voice was like honey. It was high-pitched and the accent was slightly northern, like Phil's.

As it turned out, that voice would follow them for a long, long time.

"Let us go," Phil growled, the first thing he'd said in a long time. Now that he was done crying his heart out, he was _fucking pissed_.

"Oh, honey, I will," The voice like honey said, "Soon."

"That's nice-" Dan looked her up and down, "Zoe."

The woman stopped walking.

"How did you know that?" Her jaw dropped.

"Easy," Dan shrugged, "I heard you talking to someone else on the way in. By the way, I didn't appreciate someone groping me to see if I was awake."

Zoe stared at him.

"High five," Phil demanded, holding his hand out for Dan to high-five.

"I'm bloody proud of myself," Dan smirked as Zoe seemed to drop back into her persona with ease. She prowled around the room again.

"Daddy issues," Dan listed off, remembering very vividly the conversation he'd overheard, pretending to be asleep, "Loves her brother. Sleeps with her co-worker-"

"Do not mention anything about me and Alfie again," Zoe said, slipping up to Dan and placing the razor at the base of his throat.

Dan didn't even flinch. He was a natural.

"Oh, so his name's Alfie?" Dan said, shifting around in his seat. Zoe mentally smacked herself in the face.

"Let me rephrase," Zoe said, ever the quick thinker, sliding over to Phil and placing the blade at the base of _his_ throat, "Apologize. Listen to what I say and then do what I say."

"Alright," Dan gulped, "I am sorry, and I will listen to what you say and do what you say."

"Thank you," Zoe said, pulling the blade back. A bit of blood dripped from Phil's collarbone and Phil growled. He was very, very grateful for what little Dan had taught him about acting.

"You will not try to escape," Zoe said, "There's training going on, you will join Unit 112."

"Right," Dan said as Zoe unclipped both of them.

Dan considered knocking her out, but then stepped into the hallway to face armed guards and was glad he had impulse control. He grabbed Phil's forearm for support and the two made their way to the front yard.

"Cheers," Connor said, saluting them. A skinny man who looked to be about fifteen and another, lacking a shirt, with scars on his back and sides stood by Connor.

Dan and Phil stared at the mess around them. People doing push-ups and jumping jacks and running as though their lives depended on it.

Yeah, they were gonna have a hard time escaping.

Dan realized how exposed he was when he glanced down at his small frame, wearing what looked like an undershirt and running shorts.

"Unit?" An older looking guy with scruff and a beanie barked.

"112," Dan said, gripping Phil's arm tighter.

"Over there," He said, "Congrats, boys, you're with me."

Dan and Phil moved over to Connor and his friends. The shirtless one grinned at them.

"What's up?" He greeted, "Name's Tyler. Who're you?"

"Dan and Phil," Phil supplied. Dan was almost tucked into Phil's side.

Phil was wearing the exact same thing Dan was.

"Alright, my name's Alfie, and it looks like you're the Intelligence Division, meaning you'll have more exercise than the others," Dan and Phil groaned at the news.

"Hey, we gotta get you in shape somehow, right?" Alfie smirked, "And, it's best to be working on your weaknesses and honing your strengths in your spare time."

And that's the story of how Dan and Phil go for a morning run every day- the least in-character thing they'd done for years. But back to the past.

They'd trained alongside Tyler, Troye, and Connor, and it seemed that they were (was this coincidental?) the only LGBT+ people there.

Go figure.

Of course, this was before Caspar Lee, but we'll talk about him later.

Anyway, it was five weeks of this until Dan, Phil, Tyler, Troye, and Connor escaped. Prime example of why you shouldn't group the smart people together. They'd sneaked past the guards and into the commons before someone spotted them- goddamn Dave from the Fitness Division- and the five broke out into a sprint. They made it to the gate before the guards caught up to them, and then all hell broke loose.

Say what you will about learning, but if you're doing something for five weeks straight, then you know a lot about it.

Dan had put at least ten guards into a choke-hold before they'd managed to escape using a key that Connor had fabricated using literally just his memory and some rocks and a fork from the Canteen ("I'm thinking of the alias 'Photograph', like it?").

They managed to get out of the doors and walked for twenty miles before reaching the nearest town, and Dan and Phil collapsed onto a public bench.

They were still in under-shirts and running shorts, if you were wondering.

"Well, we might see you around, might not," Tyler said, slipping back into his own shirt. The three walked away, leaving Dan and Phil on a bench, exhausted.

"This is going to be a long week," Phil groaned. He and Dan would have to get jobs and an apartment and they'd have to explain Phil's family's death to everybody and why they couldn't talk to Dan's parents-

"I can see your scheming face," Dan said, eyes closed, "I don't like it. Stop."

"Well, look at it this way," Phil replied, "We've spent the last five weeks cramming desperately, then this is the real life GCSEs."

Dan groaned, knowing that Phil was right.

"We'd need to do some research," Phil mumbled, grabbing a newspaper out of the trash, ignoring the suspicious substance on a few of the pages.

"Says bank hours are between 10 AM and 5 PM," Phil said softly, sliding back next to Dan on the bench. Dan warily kept watch, but nobody was around to notice them. Phil spoke softly and thumbed through the pages, and Dan knew they were definitely pulling something off.

"So, if we go at around four fifty or so, we could hide in the bathroom," Phil suggested.

"Security cameras," Dan replied. Phil sighed and rubbed his eyes with his palms.

"I think I've got something," Phil said after a brief pause, "But we'll need ski masks."

.o0o.

A couple ski masks, some rubber gloves, and some scissors later and Dan and Phil were about ready to do this. They both put on the masks and Dan knew what he'd have to do- Phil would be cutting the power, he'd be doing the rest.

It took about three minutes for the power to shut off completely, and Dan managed to slip inside as everyone else ran from the building in a panic.

Nobody was there. Dan grinned as he pulled open the vault, which was locked electronically.

Thank God for power lines.

Dan started throwing money into the duffel bag he was carrying and Phil stood guard this time. Soon, the duffel bag was completely full, and Dan and Phil were on the run again. They'd dismantled the security cameras and didn't speak once during the whole operation.

Once they'd dropped the ski masks and the duffel, picking up some backpacks they'd also stolen from a thrift shop, the pair assumed yet another role, and smiled and laughed at each other as they walked through town with sunglasses on, smiling and holding hands. There weren't any feelings involved, though. They were just doing a job.

They took a train to a small town on the outskirts of the city, Pacific, and found a small house that looked mostly abandoned. There wasn't even a 'Private Property' sign on it, so Dan and Phil took refuge in the house.

Once inside, they could see why it was abandoned. The floorboards were bare and looked rather suspicious, and the walls had mold growing on it, but the foundation didn't appear to be cracked and other than a crap-ton of dust, the house was actually in pretty good repair.

"Now for the fun part," Phil huffed, checking the single-storied house for bugs or wires. He found a cramped kitchen and a bathroom with an upright shower and a room that was a bit smaller that Phil assumed to be the bedroom. Dan had set the bags down onto the ground and had sat down himself, taking a breath.

"Phil," Dan called, thinking too deeply and too quickly, "What have we done? Oh God, we can't go home, we can't get jobs any more, we can't go _outside_ any more-"

"Dan, you're thinking too much," Phil smiled gently, sitting down next to Dan, "We can go out and get jobs. And if not, we'll just take what we need. After all, that's what we were trained for, right?"

"Phil, I want to explain this to mum and dad and Adrian-"

"You're thinking too much," Phil repeated, opening his arms in an offer for a hug, which Dan immediately took.

.o0o.

Over the years, they'd almost been caught quite a number of times. They'd been forced into something horrible when they were all too young, and they were inexperienced.

But I'd be lying if I said that Dan didn't enjoy the adrenaline after infiltrating a building. Or that Phil hated the luxuries they could afford through these measures.

But I'd also be lying if I said that Dan loved the moral gray area of his expertise. Or that Phil didn't worry for Dan's survival- it had been four years, Dan was only twenty-two.

But there they were, sneaking into a museum. There'd been a power-outage that was city-wide and expected to last for a week, what were they supposed to do?

Dan was being lowered onto the floor via a cable to grab a gemstone that was worth €1,000,000. He'd treat it like a son, he promised.

However, he hadn't counted on another person being there. Specifically, the 2/3 Americans.

Great.

Dan sighed as he pulled a gun.

"You'd do well to not mess with me," Dan growled, feeling ridiculous, "Phil, let me go."

Dan flipped gracefully onto his feet in front of the podium that held the gem. He, Phil, and the 2/3 Americans weren't necessarily enemies, but they both knew how to fight, and Dan would be damned if they were going to steal his and Phil's meals for ten years, at least.

Dan squared off against Troye. The younger of the two was much smaller, but Dan knew better than to underestimate the Australian- especially if his team were around anywhere.

"Mate, you'd better hand over that gem, I'd hate for things to get," Troye paused to flick out a switchblade, "Ugly."

"I'd hate to have to beat up a kid," Dan scoffed, keeping his cool, "What are you, anyway, like twelve?

"Boys, you should know by now that bickering gets you nowhere," A smooth, female voice that sounded like honey made both men recoil in fear.

Like it or not, Dan and Troye were very much on the same team now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was incredibly depressing. Wanna know a fact? People cry because crying releases the hormone seratonin, which is like a painkiller. So when people get really upset and cry, the body literally thinks that the emotional pain is like getting hit by a car or something. Honestly sometimes human bodies are just so neat.


	2. The Color Bandits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Caspar, I'll take green eyes, you can take the one who probably has a pet chihuahua named 'Kitty'," Joe mocked.
> 
> "Hey, she's not a chihuahua," Chris said, "She's a mutt. From a shelter. I'm not a _total_ animal."
> 
> PJ reached for his knife, grabbing it and slashing at Joe Sugg's arm.
> 
> "Oh boy," Joe said, "You should not have done that. Now I'm pissed." Joe threw a roundhouse that PJ blocked, unbalancing the other man. They were so caught up in their own fight to notice what had happened to Chris until Caspar sneaked up behind PJ and injected him with something.
> 
> "Have a nice nap," Caspar quipped as PJ lost consciousness, "Good luck with the headache tomorrow."
> 
> "Great," PJ muttered sarcastically as the world faded to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for abuse mentions, crime, shenanigans, star-gazing, mentions of sex, etc.

PJ stood at the counter, chatting with Chris. They were seventeen and eighteen.

"So, how long until I _can_ unlock your tragic backstory?" PJ asked, grinning. The circus had just ended and the carnie was cleaning up. PJ, an acrobat, was busy removing makeup.

"Why don't you just try to get into my pants like every other attractive guy I come across," Chris said in reply, sweeping along the ground. PJ stripped of his leotard and put on a pair of pants, not caring who saw. It was either in the middle of a crowded tent or his sub-standard trailer, after all.

"I'm working on that too," PJ said, "And you find me attractive?"

"Well, I'd be lying if I said your eyes weren't really pretty," Chris chuckled. The ringmaster made his way over and started talking to them.

"We're performing tomorrow, boys," He said, eyes dull- as per usual, "A private family donated a large sum of money for a private showing."

 _Great_. PJ pursed his lips- he was really cut short on vacation days and he did not want to go through that routine one more time- but Chris let out a hearty grin.

"Well, I'm looking forward to it," Chris said by was of dismissal.

"I am not," PJ frowned, "I can still feel the silk-burn on my side from this _fucking_ leo." PJ said, gesturing to his side.

"Oof," Chris winced, "So, about the whole 'getting into my pants' thing-"

"Sure. Fine. Whatever. Let's go fuck." PJ grabbed his shirt and his leotard with a sigh. Chris smiled and threw the broom back where it went, following PJ eagerly.

.o0o.

Chris's trailer wasn't that different from PJ's, same rickety floorboards and double bed and no Internet access. Same shitty book selection- PJ had used some of his money to buy some more books- and the same smell of gasoline and 'Simple Green'.

"Where'd you get all of these?" PJ asked, gesturing to the trinkets Chris had collected.

"Well, after around three years here," Chris coughed, "I figured out how to pick-pocket pretty well, and-"

"I don't care," PJ said dismissively, "Just curious. Everyone who visits the circus is a rich asshole anyway."

"Alright, now, about fucking-" Chris was cut off by PJ's lips on his own. Chris pushed PJ down onto the mattress.

"Someone's eager to interrupt me," Chris gave a small laugh as PJ pulled Chris's shirt over his head.

.o0o.

Everything went wrong at the circus the next day. The lion tamer lost an arm, a couple of dancers broke their ankles, and the fire-breather definitely had asthma now.

PJ's act went smoothly, though, and Chris took the opportunity to heart, picking several watches, bracelets, and even a necklace off of the family.

The ringmaster's eyes only lit up when he was on stage. PJ had only started to notice how robotic the circus was. The ballerinas looked like they were ticking along to a beat, the ringmaster looked as though he were on a wind-up string. It was as if only he and Chris were human.

Even the audience, a family of four, looked like porcelain, regal and still on their shelves.

PJ dropped from the high knot in the silks to applause, smiling even though he wasn't sure what he felt any more.

.o0o.

"Do you ever notice that there's something a bit... off... about everyone here?" PJ whispered to Chris, who nodded.

"Honestly, if this place weren't my only source of income, I would've vanished from here a long time ago." Chris replied, leaning back on one of the supports of the tent.

"Well, why don't we?" PJ asked, "Vanish, I mean. We could leave and never be seen again."

"Actually, that idea doesn't seem half-bad," Chris said, "What do you say we grab a few masks and hit the road?"

The two boys shook hands on it. They hadn't necessarily given themselves a name, somewhere between co-workers and boyfriends.

.o0o.

"Cheers," PJ said, holding out his mask as the two sat in the seats of Chris's trailer.

"Where to first?" Chris grinned. The air between them cackled with electricity, something dangerous and delicious that they never wanted to let go of.

"How about..." PJ thought for a minute, "Brighton?"

.o0o.

They drove all the way to the rich town, stopping in front of their client's house.

"They're not home," Chris grinned, "We've got about thirteen minutes until the cops show up, if I am correct."

"Alright. So, grab what you can, meet back here in twelve?" PJ suggested, and Chris nodded. The two dashed into the house, ignoring the loud buzzing noise that filled the house and grabbing what they could.

They raced back outside, bags loaded, and jumped back into their seats.

"Really, mate?" PJ glanced at Chris's bag. He'd pretty much grabbed everything that caught his eye, whereas PJ put more thought into what he'd grabbed. Chris growled as he pulled out of the driveway.

"Well, at least now we have a branding. Stealing seemingly random objects because they fit your aesthetic," PJ smirked at Chris, who laughed a bit as sirens followed them.

"Shortcuts?" PJ asked, and Chris nodded. The two were out-running the police by a long shot.

They went into the woods, away from everything. The police followed them into the woods, but couldn't find where the trailer had gone after about two turns because of the many roads that wound through the forest.

"Does this vehicle have a license plate?" PJ asked. Chris shrugged.

"Might as well," Chris said, "We're planning to stay on the run for a long, long time, right?"

"I guess," PJ said.

And that was the birth of the Color Bandits. Two of the biggest names in crime, they were the guys who could get things. Namely, things involving money.

.o0o.

Chris and PJ never really talked about their pasts.- until one night when they sat on top of Chris's trailer, gazing up at the stars.

"When I was thirteen, I ran away from home," PJ said, voice barely a whisper. The woods were utterly silent, as if they were listening to PJ's story too.

"I actually ran away and joined a circus, how about that," PJ's laugh rang sadly through the hollow, "I wanted to be a ringleader, but I settled for an acrobat. After all, what's more beautiful than someone flipping through the air like they can fly?"

"And I did feel like I was flying," PJ's sigh was even more heartbreaking than his laugh, "But I never truly felt at home. So I ran away from that circus- they said 'good riddance' to me. I went back home."

"I never did tell you the reason why I left anyway, did I? I suppose the reason boiled down to my dad. He hit me, all the time. Me and mum and Sophie, and I couldn't take it any more. So, instead of actually helping, I took the coward's way out. I ran."

"Back to the story. I left, went to the circus, stayed with them for a year until they made it back to Manchester- my home town. I left, went back home to Sophie. Only Sophie. She'd gotten bitter over the years, and I was forced to leave again when _she_ hit me," PJ laughed again, and the forest echoed it back, "Then I got back into the scene. I walked into that circus that we worked at for a long time. You and I met, but we never really talked. I was the star of the show. I remember about a week after we'd met, I had started to realize how _weird_ the circus was. The acrobats looked like dolls, the freaks looked like they were on their last legs."

"You were really the only one who looked human to me, after we'd gotten to know each other," PJ said.

There was silence. 

Chris grabbed PJ's hand and began to speak in reply, "I'd never fit in at school or home or _wherever_ , but I did fit in at that circus- because every single person stood out. I remember going with my older brother, who didn't keep a close enough eye on me. I never left that circus. I remember trying so hard to be noticed, then just submitting to being in the background."

"And in a way, it did become home. I remember looking up to the acrobats and the lion tamers and thinking, 'wow, I'd be scared shitless, I wonder how they do it.' and I'd tried once, but I'd broken my arm falling off the trapeze." PJ winced at the memory, he knew the time that Chris was talking about.

"And I still don't know how you did it, you make it look like it's normal, I would be so _terrified_ -"

"Tell you a secret," PJ said, "I'm always scared shitless. Always. Everyone is. Doing it over and over again just makes you a better actor."

"Oh," Chris thought for a moment, "Well, I'm glad we got that off of our chests."

"Yeah," PJ pressed a kiss to Chris's cheek, "What do you say we take this inside?"

Chris shivered in anticipation and said, "Fuck yes."

"That's the idea," PJ smirked.

"Fuck you," Chris muttered.

"Is that not what you will be doing," PJ deadpanned.

"I hate you," Chris glared.

"You love me," PJ said, disappearing into the sunroof, dropping down to the floor of the trailer.

.o0o.

"Babe," Chris whined, surrounded by armed officers. PJ sighed and snapped the neck of one officer before roundhouse-ing another in the face.

"Why do _I_ always have to come to your rescue?" PJ asked, exasperated.

"Hey," Chris reasoned, taking out another guard, "They would've come after you at some point anyway."

"I hate you," PJ glared, grabbing the classic artwork they were stealing- "The Fighting Temeraire", by J.M.W. Turner. It slid off the wall with ease.

"Love you too," Chris winked, practically gutting the final officer with a dagger. He picked a couple guns off of the conscious and/or dead policemen and the two left the same way they always came in- through the front door.

Let's just say, after five years of this shit going down, the government was pretty pissed off at them. However, Chris and PJ had gotten some pretty cool contacts out of it- say, the biggest art forgers, Louise Pentland and Joey Graceffa, and some of the best mercenaries and assassins, thieves and people of the like. Oddly enough, none of them really dealt with drugs- they knew the health risks, and PJ was not wasting his pretty face on some cocaine if Chris could help it.

They were close friends with Dan Howell and Phil Lester, who people literally just... _assumed_ were boyfriends.

"Nice," Dan said, looking at the painting, "So what'll this go for? Five pence?"

"Actually shut up," PJ joked, balancing the metal tip of the knife on his finger.

"About a couple million pounds, really," Chris said, lounging on the sofa of Dan and Phil's house, "Not our best work by far, but still."

"You two given into the hype and made out yet?" PJ teased. 

"We're still better than you butt-buddies," Phil snorted, sitting in the recliner, "At least we _know_ what we are." 

Dan was on a dining room chair that he'd moved from the kitchen, and PJ seemed pretty transfixed by the knife he was twirling on his finger, leaning against the wall with the TV on it.

"Ooh, the 2/3 Americans are on the telly again," Chris said, glancing down at his phone. One of their favorite tech workers, Evan, fixed their phones so that they couldn't be tracked.

It worked pretty well, actually.

Anyway, back to the television.

"Organizing a city-wide blackout, now are we, boys?" Chris grinned at the TV. They were seen, recognizable by Tyler's scars peeking out of his t-shirt, on their way to the power grid for the city.

"We'd better take advantage of this," Dan said, "We'll give you two a million quid to stay out of it?"

"We won't move from this spot," PJ promised, plopping down in the chair Phil had recently deserted.

Dan and Phil grabbed their gear and slipped Twenty-One-Pilots-esque ski masks over their heads, hopping into their own car.

PJ moved over to the couch and dozed off, feeling Chris's chest press into his back.

.o0o.

The windows shattered, waking PJ up from his catnap. PJ sprung up, grabbing his gun and tucking his dagger back into the holster. He aimed at some of the officers that charged into the building, and Chris stood behind him, also shooting at the officers.

"So, how about we convince Dan and Phil to go on a double date?" PJ yelled over the commotion.

"Now that you say that, it sounds like a fantastic idea!" Chris yelled back, "How about a picnic?"

"I'll have to ask them!"

"Goddammit we're trying to kidnap you here, quit trying to organize a rendezvous with your bffls," A lanky man with brown hair and green eyes said as he burst through the open window.

"Damn, Joe Sugg grew up handsome," PJ commented offhandedly, shooting another guard.

"Hey," Chris said, pretending to be hurt.

"Caspar, I'll take green eyes, you can take the one who probably has a pet chihuahua named 'Kitty'," Joe mocked.

"Hey, she's not a chihuahua," Chris said, "She's a mutt. From a shelter. I'm not a _total_ animal."

PJ reached for his knife, grabbing it and slashing at Joe Sugg's arm.

"Oh boy," Joe said, "You should not have done that. Now I'm pissed." Joe threw a roundhouse that PJ blocked, unbalancing the other man. They were so caught up in their own fight to notice what had happened to Chris until Caspar sneaked up behind PJ and injected him with something.

"Have a nice nap," Caspar quipped as PJ lost consciousness, "Good luck with the headache tomorrow."

"Great," PJ muttered sarcastically as the world faded to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew, that was quite a trip. you guys are so lucky, two chapters in one day! luckily, i feel like absolute shit so i stayed home from school today, bad news is i feel like shit so that might have been the worst thing i've ever written, i'm kind of delirious right now (i've spent the last hour and a half trying to learn the Gravity Falls theme on the piano)
> 
> kudos and comments are so very appreciated, than you guys so much!


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